Lost to the Crown
by MadameStarheart
Summary: What price will a human pay for love? Or rather, what will happen when a demon twists their romance into something far more sinister? (Takes place after the King Mettaton ending. AU where Frisk has a crush on Mettaton and Chara uses this to their advantage.)


Frisk had wanted to see him one last time before she left. His laugh, his smile, his irresisitible charm. After his coronation, she had never gotten the chance to meet up with him. It took days just for her to obtain a pass for an audience with him. But it was understandable; he had a kingdom to run and a tv show to star in now.

Still, she could tell Mettaton had changed.

Walking through the halls of Asgore's old palace, now draped in magenta along with portraits and statues of the new ruler, she thought of her time with him.

My, what a dream he had been. A dream wrapped in metal and pressed into a rectangular form. It seemed silly, but the glitter, the dresses, the dancing, the posing, had all filled her with ecstasy. No one knew how to make her feel like a star than Mettaton did.

Now that her time here had almost run out, there was no better moment than now to confess.

"Halt!" the guard at the door cried, raising his weapon in her face. She showed him the pass, and he retreated, eyes boring into her as she walked into the audience chamber.

Mettaton was in his rectangular form. Good. She had always found that one easier to talk to. She had to admit, the king look suited him rather well. He was drowning in a velvet and ermine cape, Asgore's old crown balanced delicately on the top of his boxy form.

"Oh, it's you." he groaned. What did he mean, it's her? They had been friends for months. What was wrong? "You certainly are...persistent, little one." he spat as regally as he could, his screen flashing a red line of pixels. "Just like when you killed all those people. But it's not like we can fix it now." he threw out, quickly relaxing into his usual demeanor. He was always so forward, it threw her off, but saying something like that? Unusual. Not to mention, she did all that for him. His status as leader of the Underground's entertainment sector had never quite pleased him, and she could see it. She would have done anything, anything, to make him the star he had always wanted to be. What was so wrong with taking out the competition? Yet, something told her there was. Her heart just couldn't quite pinpoint it yet.

Frisk straightened herself, and asked about having a position in Mettaton's court. She was more or less responsible for his ascension, it was only fair. Not to mention, the dim possibility of being Mettaton's queen filled her with a disturbed sort of determination.

So what if she was human? Mettaton loved humans anyway.

"Sorry, darling," he mulled, the article more venomous than usual. "There are none. Who do you think I am, that I would leave positions open?" He sensed a peculiar longing in her eyes, one that had rarely ever come out.

"Oh. I do believe I see what you're saying. I'll have you know, I made myself both king and queen of the underground. It's like typing two complicated programs into one software, or however the saying goes. I believe I can handle all the work quite nicely by myself." It was then that Frisk noticed a second crown, red and round, laying on the armrest of his throne. The crown he wore as...queen? She didn't get it. Was he going senile?

She threw words into the air, trying to evoke that charming entertainer she had once known, the one she had wanted to see.

It only got worse. The pixels in his face-like screen darkened to orange, and turned to a sea of red as he gripped the sides of his throne, holding back some inescapable urge.

"You think this is all some sort of game, don't you? You think you can just boondoggle your way through here, and prance your way back to the surface. Not in my kingdom, darling."

What? Her love for him, her persistence, her refusal to leave his side...was it all for naught, another failed reach into the darkness of love?

"Don't worry, I can give you exactly what you want." the king wavered. For a moment, Frisk thought she saw an image coagulate into his tv-esque facade; it was of a reptilian woman in a lab coat, huddled in front of a bathroom sink, crying...

She would know that face anywhere. And then she thought, and she asked,

Where was the doctor?

"Where is the doctor, indeed." Mettaton mused sarcastically. He was physically incensed now, steam coming from his vents. "Regrettably, I cannot find that tidbit anywhere in my data files. To use your vernacular, I suppose she moved on to a...better place."

The humanity in Frisk lurched. This is not love, It whispered. This is madness. She suppressed it.

"Won't crack? It doesn't matter anyways...your time is up, human." the king attempted to compose himself.

She questioned what he meant.

"Oh, you didn't hear of the new policy I've enacted? I did...bend the rules somewhat for you, but now I know that you simply won't listen to reason."

Two armed guards burst into the audience chamber.

"Your Metalness, has the 10-minute head start on capturing humans run out?" one asked.

"Yes, lovelies. Now take her away." he said, emotionless.

She didn't understand, she cried out. She thought they were friends, she whimpered. The demon in her struggled against the henchmens' grip, crying out for a machine that would never be hers.

"What naivete humans hold! Don't you see? You have murdered my friends and terrorized my people quite enough, you rotten brat." he screeched, internal machinery humming and smoking. "I have defined you and your kind as a Class A threat to the safety of the underground; can you get that through your thick skull? Obviously, there needs to be some sort of punishment. What kind of king would I be otherwise?" he commanded, using that haughty drawl he would get whenever he would compliment hiself. The guard's spear came just short of nicking Frisk's throat as the realization hit: he would murder her, just as she had done to the Underground's denizens.

The guards bound her arms, making a tight circle around her, and led her down the hallowed hallways. Just out of the audience chamber, she swore she saw Sans, his mouth twisted into a disapproving frown, the lights gone from his eyes. Papyrus was there too, staring off to the side and wringing his hands, as if waiting for a chance, a word, or anything else. Neither of them said anything.

-MTT SPECIAL BROADCAST!-

The tv rang out. "Welcome, beauties and gentlebeauties!" The ever-jovial broadcaster cheered. "I'm sure you're all dying to know where the pesky human fugitive is, and great news! She has been detained, courtesy of me, King Mettaton!" he went on, his smug smile beaming. "That concludes our special announcement for the evening! Just remember, beauties, keep watching your television, and I'll be there...Always, and forever. This is Mettaton, signing off!"

 **Author Notes: Hey, thanks for reading my first Undertale Fan fiction. You're pretty cool for sticking around.**

 **Also this was partially inspired by the amazing blog kingmettatonme.**


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